Peter stood frozen at the top of the stairs, listening. He'd hurried his business, knowing that he probably shouldn't leave his wife and Neal for very long.

But now, it sounded like being left alone was exactly what the two of them had needed.

He made his way slowly down the stairs, stopping at the bottom – watching as his wife embraced, and was embraced by, another man.

And he realized he was jealous.

Oh, not the kind of jealousy in a romantic sense. He had no doubts about Elizabeth's love for him.

No, he was jealous that, despite her hostage ordeal, she was still the one who was able to move past it first, and say out loud what they both knew to be true. Neal was a part of their lives.

For better or worse.

He finally cleared his throat and stepped around the corner, watching as Elizabeth and Neal slowly backed away from each other. "Everything all right?"

Elizabeth nodded, wiping away a pesky tear. "Fine."

Neal nodded too, his eyes suspiciously moist under the light. "We're good."

"Good." Peter walked back over to the table and sat down, pulling his notepad close. "Let's talk this through, and then try for some sleep."

"Well, I'm going up," Elizabeth said. "I'll make up the guest room."

"No, don't bother." Neal's voice was quiet, but firm. "It'll only be a couple of hours. The couch is fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, but thanks."

Elizabeth conceded the argument, leaning over to kiss Peter's cheek. "Good night then."

He kissed her back. "Good night, hon. I'll be up soon."

Both men watched as she disappeared up the stairs. Finally, Neal came to the table, leaning against the back of one of the chairs. "What else do you need to know now?"

"You had an idea about how to take these guys down. I'm not going to rush into anything, but let's hear it."

Neal slowly shook his head. "No, it was a bad idea."

"Maybe you should let me hear it."

"No, you were right. We'll take the statements, the sketches, everything, and give it all to the local prosecutor. Let them deal with it."

"Neal Caffrey, advising me to let the legal system run its natural course? Come on, what was your idea?"

"It doesn't matter," Neal insisted. "Peter, they'll know if you get involved. It'll make you a target – it'll make Elizabeth a target. I can't do that again."

"But they know who you are. You're already a target."

"But only me. Nothing to be done about it."

"Neal…"

"Peter, it's not like I can go to the Hamptons and hide out with Sara. Once we put the anklet back on, everything in my radius is also part of Donnelly's turf."

"They'll come after you."

"Maybe, especially when they can't find Sara. No one else knows where she is, right?"

"Just Jones. I had him e-mail the location to a special address Hughes has, just in case."

"Hughes has a secret e-mail address?"

"There are a few of them, just in case the regular FBI addresses could be compromised."

"And there's no way to know just how far Donnelly's reach extends."

Peter sighed and nodded. "Unfortunately, that's true."

"All the more reason to let the locals investigate this. Peter, it's not your case."

Peter leaned his head against his hands, rubbing at weary eyes. Then he looked up again. "All right, we'll start with the statements and the sketches in the morning. See what Dave Shattuck can come up with. And then we'll figure out where we go from there."

Neal stepped aside as Peter got up, looking over at the couch. "I know my word's not worth much with you, but I'm not going anywhere."

"I believe you," Peter said – and what's more, he even believed those words himself. He reached out slowly, laying a hand on Neal's shoulder.

The touch only lasted a second or two, before Peter turned and headed for the stairs. But it was a start.

Morning arrived with the bleating of the alarm. Peter groaned and reached over to silence it. He was almost tempted to just roll over again…

Then all of the memories of the last couple of days came back, and he found himself sitting up on the edge of the bed. He was neck deep in another mess, and he and his team needed to figure out the best way to proceed. And Neal…

Was hopefully still downstairs.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get the back to lay flat, as he made his way to the door. One look back at the bed confirmed that Elizabeth had settled in again; she had that ability, to all but ignore any alarm except hers.

As silently as he could, Peter made his way to the stairs and started down. If Neal was gone…

But he wasn't, and there was something vaguely comforting about seeing the younger man there, sprawled on the couch, one hand trailing down to where Satchmo lay.

Peter moved past them into the kitchen, going directly to the coffee pot. He started a pot brewing and then turned to the refrigerator, poking around the shelves and finally coming out with eggs and some bacon. He closed the door…

Neal was standing there.

To say that the younger man looked different than usual would be an understatement. His hair was disheveled, standing out at strange angles. Even on the many occasions when Peter had shown up early to get him, Neal had never looked like this. There was an unhealthy pallor to his skin, set off by the dark circles under his eyes. Add in the fact that he was still wearing the ill-fitting clothes from the freighter, complete with lumpy grey socks, and he was looking very un-Neal-like.

"You're cooking?"

Peter shrugged. "I can scramble eggs."

Neal picked up the loaf of French bread from the counter. "How about French toast?"

That actually sounded a lot better, so Peter stepped back, allowing Neal the space he needed to work.

The coffee finished and Peter poured two cups, leaving one on the counter. He took the other and leaned against the island, watching. Neal had sometimes talked about cooking, but he'd never really had the chance to watch the younger man in action in the kitchen before. All of Neal's actions were measured, confident, as he whisked ingredients in a bowl, sliced the bread, soaked the slices. Neal heated up the griddle pan – something he had helped Elizabeth shop for a few months back – and dropped some butter on it to melt. On the other side of the stove he had a frying pan heating, and now there came the sizzle of bacon as he dropped the first few slices in.

Neal was just putting the first pieces of bread on the griddle when Elizabeth came in. "Wow, something smells good."

Peter moved to pour another cup of coffee. "Neal's showing off."

Neal just shrugged at that. "It's the least I can do."

"So did you boys figure out what you're going to do?" she asked.

Peter caught Neal's eye, and knew they both understood there was still a lot to figure out. "I think we know where to start."

Neal tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. "Can we start by going to June's so I can shower and change?"

"I imagine if I took you to the office like you are, you'd claim it was cruel and unusual punishment again." The look Neal gave him in reply was enough to make Peter smile. "Right, first stop, Riverside Drive."

The house was eerily quiet when they got there. Apparently June had had a chance to call her staff and tell them to stay home.

Well, that was one worry taken care of.

Still, Peter made Neal stay behind him as he went in first, gun drawn. But there was no sign that anyone had been there.

Peter started for the stairs, but Neal stopped him, instead leading him through the darkened kitchen to a small alcove on the back side. Inside, there was a series of monitors, mostly showing the outside angles of the home.

"This is where the security cameras record," Neal said. "Just in case something happens to me in the next few days."

"Neal…"

"There's more." Neal moved back through the kitchen and led the way down the stairs to the basement. He went to a cabinet and started to move things from one of the shelves. "Mozzie made a few… enhancements to June's security system." He pressed the lower left corner of the partition behind the shelf and the panel popped open, revealing more recording equipment. "The set-up off the kitchen is pretty easy for anyone to find. This backs everything up for forty-eight hours until it loops. Hopefully you'll never need to access it, but…"

"I'll talk to Hughes about setting up a protection detail."

Neal had started putting things back on the shelf. "Somehow, I don't see that being one of his priorities. But if something does happen here, at least you know."

If ever Peter had needed proof that the clothes could, indeed, make the man, he got it when Neal came out into the main room. Showered, shaved, and dressed in a black pinstripe suit, he was again the confidant man Peter was used to. Oh, if you looked close, the dark circles were still there under his eyes, as were the bruises and bandages. But the clothing seemed to act like a suit of armor, hiding all of the other signs of exhaustion and injury.

He looked like anything but a target for a shadow police force – but, of course, looks could be deceiving.

The ride in to the office was quiet, each of them lost in his own thoughts. Peter was concentrating on the logistics of getting Neal's statement, and wondering how to get Sara's statement without endangering her location. He knew Neal would be able to produce detailed sketches of their abductors, but would they be enough to identify the men – and tie them to Donnelly?

And while he knew Neal was right, that an investigation could very well make him a target, the agent in him argued that he couldn't just leave this for someone else to investigate. Maybe he could get El to go out of town for a while…

From the far-away look in Neal's eyes, Peter realized he had no idea what his partner was thinking during the drive.

Partner.

That was the first time he'd thought about Neal in those terms since before Elizabeth had been kidnapped. Actually, since before Kramer had come to town and convinced Peter to treat Neal like a suspect, and not like a friend, or partner.

And now he wasn't sure if it was too late to salvage that partnership.

They got to the office, riding up to the twenty-first floor in lingering silence. Around the office, the other agents who were already in just looked on in surprise as they walked in.

Of course. Only Jones and Diana had been at the Coast Guard station, and had known that Neal was back.

At least they weren't mobbed immediately with demands for an explanation. But that would certainly come later, probably around the coffee pot.

Leaving Neal at his desk with instructions to start on the sketches, Peter headed upstairs. He'd seen Hughes come to the doorway of his office when they came in, and he knew his boss would be waiting for an update.

Then they could make arrangements to get Neal's official statement, and decide where to go from there.